


Ugly Sweaters

by grovyrosegirl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas fic, Flashback fic, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Team as Family, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grovyrosegirl/pseuds/grovyrosegirl
Summary: It’s Jesse McCree’s first Christmas with Overwatch. He starts out the night trying to endure a crowded holiday party at Reinhardt’s apartment, but maybe there’s such a thing as Christmas magic after all.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Ugly Sweaters

It’s Jesse McCree’s first Christmas since his “recruitment” into Overwatch. He’s standing in the corner of Reinhardt Wilhelm’s apartment, crowded with Overwatch agents and their plus-ones. He holds a cup of eggnog topped with cinnamon shavings in one hand. 

Reinhardt’s place feels straight out of a holiday catalogue. Every door in the apartment has a wreath hanging, while every table is covered with a scarlet red tablecloth. Whenever he glances up, Jesse can see waves of homemade snowflake streamers across the ceiling. A large Christmas tree covered in an array of ornaments and multicolored lights stands in the center of the room. The topper of the tree is a wooden, bright yellow star. Traditional, save for the Overwatch insignia carved into its center. Beneath the branches are piles of carefully wrapped gifts, each one topped with a red or green ribbon. There’s a lone mistletoe hanging on the doorway to the kitchen. The more observant guests—also known as the sober ones—are careful to avoid walking directly under it when they pass through. 

There’s scarcely a moment to hear his own thoughts between the chattering of the party-goers mixed in with the blasting of festive songs in the background. Hardly any room to move either. It seems the different friend groups had already found their spots in the small space and weren’t planning on budging anytime soon, lost in endless conversations. 

He can spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Reyes and Morrison were lucky enough to have grabbed the available seats on the only couch in the place. The two of them are having a conversation that Jesse can’t hear, but he can assume it’s a good one, considering that Morrison suddenly starts cracking up over something Reyes says. He sees Reyes smack Morrison’s back, laughing along with him and nearly spilling his drink in the process. 

Angela Ziegler, a med student who often comes to visit, is among the guests as well. She’s standing at the dessert table, grabbing a slice of cake until Captain Sojourn, another familiar face, waves her over to join in on a chat with her and Torbjörn. Angela looks delighted to see them and makes her way over. Probably asking her about her studies or congratulating her about some presentation she gave at her school’s conference, Jesse predicts. 

Angela is one of the only people here around his age, and Jesse would be lying to himself if he said he still didn’t find her attractive. In their first interactions, there had been a few attempts to make a move. A small wink or the occasional hat-tip towards her. But though she enjoyed his company, Angela had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anything beyond a friendship. She was hardly searching for any kind of romance at the moment. What’s the expression? “Married to her work?” That seems to sum it up nicely. 

Which is fine. A friend is better than an enemy, Jesse tells himself. 

Reinhardt, the ever-joyous host, is moving across the apartment. In his arms he carries a large silver plate of homemade Stollen which he offers to any guest he sees without a snack or a drink. Some happily accept a slice of the fruity bread, while others politely decline. Even with the denials, Reinhardt gives them a cheerful smile and reminds them of the bounty of other treats on the nearby tables. 

And finally, there’s Captain Amari. She makes her way through the room with her young daughter, Fareeha, by her side. A well-known face at the party, she’s recognized by almost everyone she passes, which makes her have to stop every few moments to greet them. 

He swears for a moment that Captain Amari swerves her head to look at him. But when he looks again, her attention is with Fareeha. She seems to have bent down to whisper something to her daughter. Fareeha nods and moves away from her, pushing her way through the crowd towards the Christmas tree. 

Jesse feels a voice in the back of his mind. Go over to someone. Talk. Try to make it so that this night isn’t a total waste of time. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he turns his attention away from the happy faces of the bright party. He lets his eyes drift back to the eggnog in his hand, then he raises the cup closer to his lips. 

That is, until a hand suddenly swoops in to snatch the eggnog away from him. 

“Hey—” Jesse starts, but stops when he sees Ana’s face two feet away, giving him a smirk. “Captain.”

“Jesse,” she says dangling the eggnog in one hand. She brings it closer to her face and sniffs it. Immediately she draws it back, nodding as she does. “I think you’re a bit too young for this stuff.”

Jesse folds his arms, “With all due respect, Captain Amari, I’ve had plenty of drinks in my life. And the legal age of drinking in Switzerland is eighteen.” 

“And are you eighteen?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Give it six months, but why not start early?” He starts to reach to retrieve the stolen drink.

Ana laughs and retracts her hand with perfect reflex, “Nice try.”

“What ever happened to the spirit of giving?” says Jesse. 

“Right here. Consider it my gift to you that I won’t allow you to wake up on Christmas morning with a hangover. Trust me, cowboy, they’re the worst ones.” 

Jesse sighs, accepting defeat. “Fine.” 

She gestures her head at the snacks across the room, “Reinhardt makes a delicious hot cocoa. I’d recommend it.” 

“Maybe,” he says as he leans back against the wall with another sigh. 

Ana doesn’t take the gesture to leave, “I didn’t take you for a wallflower, Jesse.” 

“I’m not,” he retorts. “I’m just...a bit overwhelmed, I guess. Haven’t been to a party like this in years. Wasn’t even planning on coming to this one, but Reyes insisted.”

“I’m glad he did,” Ana says, moving to stand next to him. “We’re happy you’re here.” 

Jesse gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “C’mon Captain, you don’t have to break out the schmaltzy lines to make me feel better. I know that’s common around Christmas. I don’t need them.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Ana replies, “because if you ever accuse me of being ‘schmaltzy’ ever again, I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.” She chuckles, but then looks back to him with sincerity in her voice, “I’m not trying to patronize you. I just want you to know that you’re welcome here.” 

Jesse doesn’t respond. He can’t meet her eyes again after that last statement. He can only shift his head to the side and try to focus his attention on a couple in the distance who, likely after a few drinks, accidentally walk under the mistletoe together. The taller partner realizes it first and begins to laugh until their cheeks turn pink. The shorter one looks confused until a nearby acquaintance points out the little plant hanging above, and they join in on the laughter before planting a kiss on their partner’s cheek. 

There it was. Actual schmaltz. Cheesy, yet a good distraction.

But Ana’s voice persists. 

“You’re an Overwatch agent now. And you should know that, once Gabriel puts you in the field, you’re going to see bad things on a near daily basis. Some of the most terrible things the world has to offer.”

Jesse shuffles against the wall, his gaze still avoiding her.

“You don't need to warn me,” Jesse replies. “I’m well aware that the world can be a real shithole.”

Ana states, “I know that. You’re not stupid. And even if you were, I wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth to make you ‘feel better’ about being here.”

“So why bring it up then?” Jesse mutters, irritation is growing in his tone. 

“Because the truth is exactly I said. We’re happy you’re here.” 

He goes quiet again. 

“The world can be a ‘shithole,’ as you said,” she says, “but there’s the key word, cowboy. _Can_ be. Not _is_. The truth is very painful sometimes. Other times, it’s not. And just because something hurts, doesn’t make it automatically true.” 

Jesse slowly turns his head back towards her. She’s smiling at him.

“So let yourself enjoy the softer truths when you can, okay? We want you here with us, and we’re _glad_ you’re here with us.” 

He doesn’t have any smart response, or a witty joke to deflect the tightness he’s suddenly feeling in his throat. 

He only nods.

She reaches with her free hand and pats his shoulder, “And I’m here. When you need me.”

Jesse swallows, fighting off the tightness enough to say, “Thanks Captain.”

“Mum!”

A younger, chipper voice breaks through the noise Jesse has been tuning out. Both he and Ana look ahead. Fareeha returns, pushing her way through the crowd of taller party-goers. She’s holding a box, wrapped in a bright green paper tied with a red bow. A beaming smile present on her face. 

“I found it!” Fareeha exclaims.

“Perfect timing, habībti,” Ana remarks happily.

Jesse looks to Fareeha, a smile tugging at his lips, “Aw, get something nice for your mom, Fareeha?” 

Fareeha smirks. Jesse discovers she has the same one as her mother, “It’s for you.”

His smile drops. Not in sadness. Not in fear. Only pure surprise. 

“For me?” He repeats. 

Fareeha rolls her eyes and lifts up the tag on the gift, his name neatly written on it, “No, for the other Jesse McCree here—Yes for you, dummy. Mum made it.” 

She practically shoves the gift into his arms. Jesse flinches from the suddenness, nearly dropping it in the process. He regains a grip on the box, staring down at his blurry reflection in the shiny paper. 

“I—I don’t,” Jesse struggles for words. “You didn’t have to—,”

Fareeha groans, “Will you open it already?”

“Fareeha,” Ana lightly scolds. “Be patient.”

Jesse slowly starts with the ribbon. He pulls an end, and with one tug, the whole thing comes off. He then lifts the top of the box off, letting it drop to the floor. Something big is inside. Soft, too. He can spot a shade of scarlet red peeking out from the cardboard. Ana reaches over and holds the bottom of the box, allowing Jesse to use both hands to lift the item out. 

It’s a red sweater. A handmade knit sweater. Like the kind he used to see in old Christmas specials as a kid. 

“What do you think?” Ana asks him. “I’m still a beginner when it comes to knitting, but I think this one is my best work so far.”

Well, okay, it isn’t perfect. The sweater is about two sizes bigger than him. He can spot a few places where Ana clearly messed up a row and had to start over. There seems to be an attempt to knit in a snowflake pattern across the chest area, but it more resembles a bunch of squiggly lines than snow. Still, she managed to get in a bunch of star patterns across the red yarn. And the centerpiece of the sweater, a reindeer, is the best-looking part of it. 

“It’s uh,” says Jesse, running his fingers across the soft texture, “it looks warm.”

Ana laughs and shakes her head, “And after I was so honest with you.”

Jesse groans, “Captain, I’m trying here, alright?”

“Put it on,” Fareeha interjects. 

He looks back to her, “Pardon?”

Fareeha folds her arms, “Put it on. You have to, for the picture. It’s the rules.” 

It’s in that moment that Jesse finally notices that Fareeha is wearing a blue sweater of her own. It looks near identical to his, albeit the size fits her better. He takes a second glance to the other party-goers. Reyes and Morrison, still on the couch, are wearing matching sweaters with crooked Christmas tree patterns. Reyes’ sweater has a sleeve that’s longer than the other, and Morrison has to pull his down every few minutes to cover his undershirt. Sojourn’s sweater has a neck piece that keeps sliding down while Torbjörn is practically swimming in his sweater. Then there’s Reinhardt. His sweater is so tight on him that it looks more like a midriff. Even Angela is wearing one, with the brightest shade of orange he’s ever seen and an angel centerpiece that has a goofy grin. 

He looks back at his own sweater.

Oh God. 

“Don’t worry,” Ana says, “you’ll grow into it.”

Fareeha playfully nudges his arm, “Merry Christmas, Jesse. Welcome to the family.”

* * *

“You should come.” 

Genji sits in front of the few windows in Blackwatch HQ, a winter wonderland behind the cool glass. He glances over his shoulder at McCree, who is wearing a red knitted sweater beneath his coat and holding a wrapped gift. 

“You look ridiculous,” Genji says. 

McCree chuckles, “Tis the season for ugly sweaters, partner.”

Genji rolls his eyes and silently returns to his gazing out the window. Normally, McCree takes this passive aggressive gesture as his cue to give up. But not tonight. Never tonight. He walks closer, keeping the present tucked under his arm, and stares out at the swirling flakes descending upon the outskirts of the base. 

“Real pretty, isn’t it?” McCree says. “It’s like something out of a greeting card.” 

“Don’t you have a party to go to?” Genji glares daggers while speaking in a flat tone. 

McCree raises an eyebrow, “You know, I was where you were. First time I went to the old man’s party, practically had to be dragged there by Reyes.”

“Let me guess, you went to the party and discovered that the magic of Christmas was inside you all along?” Genji asks sarcastically. 

He snorts, “Hell no. But I had a nice time. And you might too, if you give it a shot. There’s a lot of folks there who would be happy to see you.”

“Such as?”

“That new recruit Oxton, Captain Amari, Angie…”

Genji sighs, “Why are you so insistent? Did you all put up a bet to see who could pester me enough to go?” 

“Oh Reyes tried, but nobody was up for it,” McCree casually says with a shrug and a laugh. He notices Genji huddle closer to the window before continuing in a calmer tone, “No, but seriously, no bullshit this time. I wasn't put up to this. I’m inviting you because, frankly partner, nobody should be alone on Christmas.” 

Genji goes quiet, he slowly shifts his gaze down the window. 

McCree turns to leave, “Welp, I’ll text you the address if you change your mind. See you later.” 

He reaches the door and lifts his hand to the console. 

“Wait.”

McCree pauses. He turns back around. Genji looks at him from across the room, his expression unreadable. 

Genji lets out one more defeated sigh, “I don’t know where my jacket is.”

McCree grins, “I have an extra. You can borrow it.” 

“Thank you, McCree.”

“Merry Christmas, Genji.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!


End file.
